Blue Period

When I was young, I was born from an ‘imaginary’ world, where trees spoke, giants stood tall, and the sky glowed with the pleasant warmth of two suns. I kept to myself, spoke less than most anyone you've ever met, and enjoyed the company of one for most my time. Now that I’m older, I... Continue Reading →

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Foreign Self

Dear Public Journal, The rows of listerine and foot creams seem utterly foreign to me. What language do the potato chips speak? I've been working on two other posts in conjunction with my Artist series and dissertation research, yet I found a need to write this instead, so here begins my public journal, entry one.... Continue Reading →

Helplessness

There is only one thing a blind man can be beside a weeping angel. I fear helplessness, doing and being able to do nothing. For me, this often means not being able to speak, unable to move or open my mouth, trapped in a silent frost like Han Solo. Screaming and pushing with all my... Continue Reading →

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